


Leather and Agiel

by LordofKavaka



Series: Secrets [2]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disguise, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Mild S&M, Romance, S&M, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Sequel, Sexual Content, Torture, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordofKavaka/pseuds/LordofKavaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost and alone, separated from Richard, Kahlan must rescue and befriend a tormented women in the clutches of a madman. Doing so may prove to be the boon that helps her find and save her Seeker. Sequel to SILK AND SAND; Post-CONVERSION (1x15) A/U Storyline, Post-CURSED (1x19).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also a b-day present.

The water cascaded down in gentle sheets, crashing on the rocks below. The pool was shallow, bubbling with the stirring of energy. Green trees stood on the fringe, framing the small sanctuary, shielding it from the darkness of the world beyond. A beneficial magical aura encompassed the entire retreat, generating a kind of gentle glow to emanate from the water, casting blue hues all over.

She stood there, splendent in her white dress, a symbol of her power and authority… of what she was. A Confessor. But that was not all. Soft moonlight filtered through the canopy, prancing between branches and leaves, to shimmer and glisten off the silver band about her neck. The metal was cold against her skin, making her shiver imperceptibly.

But he noticed.

He would always notice.

Batting her eyelashes, she heaved in a breath as he stepped forward across the rocks. The boom of the waterfall behind them obscuring all other sound except her beating heart.

As if in slow motion, his hand came up, gently landing on the side of her face as his fingertips ghosted across her jaw. Her breath hitched up as she looked at him, her blue eyes catching his brown ones in a longing gaze. The love he had for her radiated out, gloriously so. She sighed softly and closed her eyes, living for his touch.

It was tender, so very tender. His hand slowly traced her jaw, running down the sloping column of her throat. His fingers curled slightly around the cold metal on her neck, pausing momentarily, before moving on, lightly brushing along her shoulder, against the silky fabric of her dress.

"I wish you didn't have to wear this."

Her answer was the same. Always the same. "If I don't, you'd… Please. I can't take it off. I… I couldn't bare the consequences."

He sighed, not entirely happy about her decision, but he relented just the same, as he always did. He could never refuse her. "I love you," he murmured, his voice strong and confident, with no waver or doubt.

"I love you, too," she whispered back. Her voice sounded soft and weak to her, but it was still sure in her belief. It was right, without hesitation.

His hand skidded back up to cup her face, barely touching. She closed her eyes and eased into his touch, the pad of his thumb brushing along her cheek. She gazed up at him with longing and love. He leaned forward, capturing her mouth with his. His lips were soft and insistent as he kissed her. She could not help but melt into him, savoring every last bit as she slid into his embrace. His arm effortlessly slipped around her waist, his hand spreading wide across the small of her back as he pulled her closer.

She hummed in deep satisfaction, losing herself in him.

His tongue gently prodded along the seam of her lips until she parted them for him, allowing his tongue entry. It was soft and gentle, yet eager, as his warmth invaded her. She moved her arms, wrapping them around him to pull him closer, wishing she could just blend with him and become one.

That was when the thrumming started, deep in her chest. Low and deep. Dark. Her heart beat with the same reverberation. But the drumming persisted, wanting release, terrible and awful release.

There was a sharp snapping noise and she startled back, afraid, catching the sight of the silver collar falling, falling, falling… skidding off the rocky bridge and disappearing into the pool of glowing water below. She had only a moment of confusion before he was grabbing her face, his hand sliding along her newly exposed neck, freed from the constraints of the Rada'Han, as he kissed her deeply, wiping out all other conscious thought.

And then there it was, the constant tightening in the pit of her stomach, the ache for release, the power beyond measure. She fought it, lashing out at it with all her worth, but all it took was one moment of distraction and it was free.

It seized her by surprise, as his hands coasted along her arm, his thumb caressing her affectionately. Her hand rested on his chest, with the original intent of pushing him back, to save him from the harm that had been wrought by the destruction of the collar, but she could not do it… could not do what she had to do.

The power within her roared to life, coursing through her veins with frightening speed as it snarled and snapped, taking what it would for its own… taking him.

There was thunder without sound, and a compressed concussion of air that blew out around her, a silent wind of death—the herald of doom—that she feared above all else, where he was concerned.

His hand dropped from her arm, and his body went slack and limp as he leaned against her. When his eyes opened, they were devoid of that stunning spark for life that had always been there. Instead, the once brilliant vibrant energy was replaced by a shadow, a shade of its former brightness. The dimness of utter soulless devotion was all that remained of the man she loved.

His lips parted.

And she screamed in terrible horror when he spoke.

"Command me, Confessor."

XXX

Thunder and lightning clashed across the dark sky, battling for dominance, illuminating the flimsy hovel Kahlan had taken shelter in. The crackling boom startled her, making her jump, blinking awake from the meager numb slumber she'd succumb to due to fatigue and exhaustion. She shivered as the rain plummeted down on her, soaking her to the bone. Her white dress clung to her like a second skin; her hair was stringy and matted against her head. A cruel howl came through the wind, making her push further down, waiting, listening for the beasts to pass.

The snarl was the first thing she heard, followed by a few yelps and snaps. The beasts bounded by the dilapidated structure that had become her sanctuary against the harsh weather. Her breath fluttered through her lungs as she closed her eyes, straining her ears as she waited for the all clear. Kahlan hardly drew a breath while she remained quiet. After a long period of waiting, and listening, she heard not a sound. The wolves had moved on, leaving her in peace and unmolested.

Slumping with relief, Kahlan let out a sigh and brushed the damp hair away from her face. Her eyes flicked up to the gaping hole in the sunken roof—what was left of it. Hard rain poured down through the jagged timbers, dripping down on her, continuously saturating her to the point where she was shivering to her bones. Her sanctuary was little more than a shack, loosely held up by wooden beams that looked about ready to collapse.

Cautiously, she leaned back against one of the rotting timbers, resting her head against the hard surface. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying not to dwell on the recent events that had led to her current predicament. With each deep gasp of air her chest expanded and contracted, oftentimes straining against the tight confines of her corset. The stinging bite of the laces against the soft flesh of her breasts was her first signal that she needed to calm down and regain control over her intake of oxygen.

Kahlan closed her eyes and tried to focus on the meditations she had been taught as a young confessor. She still remembered being struck across the knuckles for not keeping her eyes closed during the training sessions. That particular instructor at the Confessor's Palace had been rather strict. Folding her hands across her lap, Kahlan forcibly slowed her breathing down, taking long deep breaths as she freed her mind of all thought and emotion.

When she opened her eyes several minutes later, her face was expressionless, cloaked in the mask of a Confessor.

XXX

Ruffling through her pack, searching for anything that might be of use, Kahlan paused when she saw it. She blinked, startled by the sight. She pursed her lips and brushed back her matted hair from her forehead, tucking a few water thick strands behind an ear. The silver collar sat there, nestled in drenched linens. Breathing steadily through her nose, Kahlan lifted the metal band up before her disbelieving eyes.

It was whole. It had never been struck asunder.

Her shoulders relaxed and she slumped forward, sighing in relief.

It had been a dream. She had not confessed Richard.

Careful to cover the Rada'Han in the linen wrappings, Kahlan returned it to the bottom of her pack. Eyes jerking up, she scanned the surrounding forest. The trees were dense, tightly compact, leaving no view of the valley below. There was nothing there. She was alone. At least for the moment.

Kahlan could not understand why she'd had that dream. She thought she'd moved past that, of worrying about her powers. Yes, she still feared confessing Richard in the heat of the moment, so when they managed some time alone to make love, she'd always lock the damn thing around her neck. Though, recently, after the events in Caddock, she'd grown more wary of giving into her baser needs. Richard, however, was the opposite. He had grown more insistent that she need not use the collar, that his love was stronger than even she believed.

She wanted so badly for that to be true, but history told her otherwise. No man in living memory had been able to mate with a confessor without becoming confessed in the process.

Of course that didn't stop Richard from persisting in trying to win her over to his opinion. Yet, no matter how reasoned and logical his arguments were, Kahlan would not budge. She'd learned to accept the deep dark power within… her curse, just as Princess Corah had learned to accept hers. She was determined not to let the fear of the Blood Rage rule her actions. However, it was still wise to be cautious, hence her steadfastness in the use of the Rada'Han whenever they made love.

But the events in Caddock had been… What? A week ago.

Where was Richard? And Zedd, for that matter?

Kahlan rubbed her forehead, trying to recollect the missing days from her memory. Her head hurt, and she was fighting off a fearsome headache, not to mention the unrelenting of the rain. It didn't help that she couldn't rightly tell where she was. The clouds were grey, blocking out the sun, making it even more difficult to see.

Shaking her head, Kahlan focused on the task at hand. She located the cloak and pulled it out of the pack, unrolling it and draping it over her shoulders as she fought against the chill in the wind. Tugging the hood up and over, she sheltered her head from the fierce rain. After seeing to the security of all her supplies within the pack, Kahlan doubled checked the straps before hefting it up and over her shoulders.

Letting out a soft grunt as the pack hit her back, Kahlan stood there and surveyed the interior of the shack. Nothing useful. She huffed, partly in annoyance. Grumbling slightly under her breath, she made her way to the opening, and paused, placing a hand on the dilapidated wooden frame as she warily glanced around the forest outside. Seeing no danger, she bundled herself up in the cloak and marched out into the deluge.

XXX

Opening the shutters of his cabin, he groaned and stretched his tired old limbs. It was raining, again… harder than the previous day. Scratching his scruffy chin, he blinked his eyes slowly, still somewhat in the foggy clouds of slumber. After a few minutes, he turned away from the opened window and shuffled over to the rickety chair that wobbled on one leg, retrieving the dusty moth-eaten quilt. Sweeping his arms up and draping the quilt over his shoulders like a cloak, he tugged the loose ends around his shivering frame.

A chilly breeze blew through the window, and he turned back, glaring at it.

He needed light to work by, but what little light he gained from the open shutters, he lost with the dark clouds and cold wind. Letting out a disgruntled huff, he shuffled back and shut the shutters with a decisive nod.

With a wave of his hand, a jet of white hot fire shot out from his fingertips and landed with a burst of sparks in the middle of the stack of logs that remained in the hearth. A fire sprang to life immediately, both warming up and providing some light to the small cabin interior. He smiled, bemused, and spun on his heels, casting his hand out over the rest of the room. The wicks of several candles burst to life with little flames, adding to the growing orange light emanating from the hearth.

Moving about with comfortable ease that came from a trusted routine, he quickly filled the cauldron with water and added in the necessary ingredients to make himself a hearty morning stew. Retrieving the wooden ladle, he stirred the contents of the cauldron off and on while also keeping tabs on the unconscious man he'd found not far from his cabin, alone in the mountain woods, with a nasty gash and growing bump on his head.


	2. Chapter 2

Kahlan sagged against the mossy trunk of a tree, breathing heavily as she took a brief respite from her hike up the mountain slopes. She had a vague idea of her location, but it wasn't much. The last thing she remembered without the haze of her pounding headache was passing through the small dale of Hebber.

They had stopped in the village to acquire some supplies and to stay at the local inn, wanting to have a roof and bed for at least one night. Only two rooms had been available, and since they were traveling with Zedd, Richard had to wait until the old wizard had dozed off before sneaking across the hall to her room so they could make love.

She could still vividly remember the feel of his hands on her as he untied the laces of her green traveling jacket, his fingers brushing along the swell of her breasts as he dipped his head down to kiss her. Richard had been very persuasive that night. Somehow, he'd managed to divest her of all but her underthings until she could stop him long enough to snap the Rada'Han around her neck. Richard had groused about how it was a mood killer, but the pause had not rendered his need any less wanton.

Inhaling the clean mountain air slowly through her nostrils, Kahlan closed her eyes, trying to center herself. Her thoughts and feelings were roaring all over the place and had yet to settle on the predicament she had found herself in.

The most worrisome thing at present, though, was not her unsettled heart, but the absence of Richard and Zedd. She had no recollection of what had become of them, or where they were. It frightened her that she had no answer to that question. Though both men were capable of taking care of themselves, the timing of their disappearance rankled with what Kahlan new about her current location.

The dale of Hebber was nestled in the low-lying slopes of the D'Haran Mountains. With that in mind, Kahlan knew without a shadow of a doubt that the mountains she was presently traipsing through had to be those very mountains. Which meant they were close to D'Hara… and by extension the forces of Darken Rahl.

Easing her breathing to a calmer rate, Kahlan swung her pack around and unlatched the flap. Digging around inside, she pulled out the small waterskin. She wrapped her fingers around it, checking its weight in her hand to ascertain how much drinking water she had left. She cocked her head and stared up into the grey sky, listening to the pitter-patter of the raindrops. She decided it would be easy enough to refill her waterskin, so she popped the stopper and took a long slow swig of water.

"Ah… that's better," she sighed out loud, slumping back into the moss covered tree trunk.

Kahlan closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly. She'd been hiking for the better part of the morning and really needed to rest. Exhaustion was catching up to her, but she wasn't willing to just lie down and fall asleep, at least not until she found some proper shelter. Part of her wished she had not abandon the shack as quickly as she had. It had been the presence of the wolves that had scared her off. She couldn't really recall why the rapid beasts had been chasing her.

Wiping her brow, Kahlan took another long sip from the waterskin, before holding it up in front of her to catch droplets of rain. She held that position for a while, refilling the waterskin. It was a slow process, and would have been quicker if she had access to a creek or stream, but she'd seen no evidence of either as of yet. Judging the waterskin properly refilled, Kahlan tucked it back into her pack, before latching it back up and hefting it over her back.

She ran her fingers through her dark damp hair, and brushed it away from her face, tucking them behind her ears as she adjusted the green traveling cloak around her shivering frame. Pulling it snug around her body, and raising the hood over her head, Kahlan pushed off the trunk and back into the rain.

Moving over the rocks with careful deliberate steps, she tried to focus on her memories of the last couple of days. It was hard not to lose herself in the remembrances of Richard making love to her, and she found herself tripping once or twice due to her lack of focus. Shaking her head, she firmed up her resolved to keep her attention where it needed to be and out of the lustful parts of her mind.

Kahlan's nose twitched when she caught a whiff of something. She paused, freezing in her tracks as her eyes darted around. Sniffing the moisture laden air again, she was able to make out the faint aroma of a vegetable stew. Kahlan licked her lips at the enticing scent and smirked, bemusedly, when her stomach grumbled in agreement.

Shifting, wary of being spotted, Kahlan slipped through the tree, following her nose. She found it amusing, remembering when Zedd had made a comment along the lines of following his nose to get them to Hebber. Richard had joked that Zedd was just looking for food, which had been half-true, since Zedd stuffed his face with the roasted duck that had been served at the inn they had patronized.

She ducked her head under a low branch of a tree, reaching up to steady herself as the ground dipped slightly. She moved with ease through the underbrush.

Kahlan had always liked the outdoors, but she had never really been that good with living off the land, as it were. As a confessor, she'd lived most of her life in a place of privilege, in the Confessor's Palace of Aydindril. Her early childhood was still haunting, but after her and Dennee had been retrieved by the Confessors from the sanctuary of Thandor, where the Sisters of the Light had looked after them, Kahlan had been surround more by books than trees. But still, she loved the wilderness, and the sense of freedom it gave her.

Richard was a natural in the woods. She'd have not been able to survive it had not been for him and his teachings. He had taught her how to build a snare to catch a rabbit or squirrel. Before him, she'd never known that those deliciously plump blackberries she'd often been tempted to pick and nibble on were, in fact, poisonous. Only so much could be learned from books. Richard had first hand knowledge of living in the wilderness, and she took advantage of that.

Another reason she'd hold a soft spot for the woods was how magical it was to make love on the soft downy moss beneath a large sheltering tree. Often or not, it was when they were traveling through a forest where they could find time to slip away from Zedd and enjoy some alone time together. Zedd had yet to suspect what they were up too, as he would almost instantly find a secluded spot to rest while they went off in search of firewood or some other such excuse they gave him when they wondered off from camp.

Smiling softly, Kahlan recalled one time when they had almost been caught by the old wizard. Richard had her pressed up against a tree, the top of her dress pulled down to her waist. One of his hands had palmed her breast, while his thumb teased her nipple. He leaned into her, nuzzling her neck as he planted soft kisses along her skin. That was when they'd heard a twig snap. Kahlan had just enough time to pull her dress back over her shoulders and tug the cloak around her to shield her untied laces before the wizard had burst out through the foliage, bragging about how'd he managed to snag a rabbit without burning it into ashes with his wizard's fire.

Oh, how Kahlan longed to feel Richard's hands on her again. Not just because she was needy… well that too, she would never get enough of him… but also because of the bone-chilling freeze of the mountain air.

Letting out a shudder of desire, feeling it course through her veins, Kahlan wrapped the cloak tighter around her, admonishing herself for letting her mind wander. She narrowed her brow, determined to concentrate on locating the source of the delicious aroma floating through the air.

Shuffling up a small rise, Kahlan dropped instantly when she spotted the cabin. Her breath left her lungs as her eyes went wide. She watched as a shadow moved past the opened window. The clinking of a spoon hitting the sides of a pot drifted across the wind, followed not long after by the warm scent of the vegetable stew. Her stomach growled, and her mouth watered. She was starving, and couldn't remember the last time she'd truly eaten.

The shadow approached the window and Kahlan lowered herself behind the mound of earth, catching a glimpse of an elderly man with a craggy face and long stringy grey hair. He looked kind enough. He reached out and pulled the shutters closed before disappearing.

Kahlan pulled back and slipped back down the mound to think. Ignoring her rumbling stomach, there were other things she needed to know that this old hermit might be able to provide. After thinking it over for a couple minutes, she decided that she had no choice, especially from her stomach, which wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Reaching down to her boots to find her daggers, she stilled.

They weren't there.

She cursed under her breath, glancing over her shoulder in the direction she'd come. Kahlan didn't know when she'd lost her daggers, or if they'd even be back at the shack. Knitting her eyebrows together, she clambered back up the earthen rise and stared out at the cabin. Even without her daggers, she wasn't completely defenseless. She had her powers. If the need arose, she'd have to rely on them to defend herself.

Standing up, still a little cautious, Kahlan made her way down the small ridge, careful of the loose scree under her feet. She hedged her way around the brush and ferns, before approaching the door and raising her fist, knocking two times. Stepping back, she listened for sounds to indicate the man inside maybe unfriendly. Nothing. If he was removing a knife from a sheath, he was doing it quietly.

She heard the rattle of chains, and the thud of the deadbolt turning. The door groaned as it opened inward. Two eyes peaked out to stare at her.

"Hello? Yes?"

Kahlan took in a quick breath, before returning the greeting. "I've been hiking since well before morning, and I could not help but smell your stew. As you can see, I'm soaking wet. If it is not too much of a burden, I'd appreciate it if you could offer me shelter from the rain." And then she added, hoping it would win him over, as he looked reluctant, "I won't stay long, just until the rain is over and then I'll be on my way."

The old man looked her up and down one last time before opening the door wide and gesturing for her to enter. Kahlan inclined her head in thanks and stepped across the threshold. Turning on her heels, she pulled down her hood and watched as the old man closed the door and locked it, continuing to notch up a series of chains to further secure the entry.

"Spirits!" the old man startled when he turned around and saw her with her hood down. His eyes went wide as he took in the length of her hair and he dropped to his knees, holding up his hands in supplication. "I beg you, please… don't confess me! I intend you no harm."

Kahlan raised her eyebrows in surprise that he could tell she was a confessor, but remained calm. And since the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, she didn't bother denying what she was, instead just answering him plainly. "I have no intention of confessing you, kind sir," she assured him, folding her hands in front of her and taking up a non-threatening stance. "I'm merely seeking shelter from the rain."

The old man bobbed his head, though still somewhat unconvinced. "Sorry if I startled you, Confessor… I just did not think to see one of your kind up here in the mountains so far from civilization." He let out a grunt, and a soft groan, as he heaved himself up off the floor. He rubbed one of his achy knees and cast a cautious glance in her direction. "I am called Miles. What are you called, Confessor?"

"Kahlan. My name is Kahlan," she replied with a polite smile. "Do you live here by yourself?"

Miles nodded and shuffled away from her and toward the cauldron boiling over the hearth. "Yes. It has been a long while since I have encounter anyone, let alone a confessor." He looked at her with some concern. "The last confessor I saw was in Ellestown, just as a D'Haran quad caught up to her and…  _punished_  her for her crimes."

Kahlan swallowed and backed away. "You're D'Haran?"

"Aye… is that a crime?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"No… just… D'Hara is at war with the Midlands—"

" _Darken Rahl_  is at war with the Midlands," Miles interjected. "Not all D'Harans are blind followers to that bastard."

Kahlan eyed him warily. "My apologies then."

"None needed, Confessor Kahlan," he said. "I understand your trepidation around D'Harans, seeing as our quads like to hunt you down and… er… punish you for being… well, being confessors." His eyes grew sad. "It wasn't right what they did to her… those soldiers. She managed to confess one before the others overpowered her. They quickly dispatched with the confessed man, and dragged her to the town center. She was stripped of her white dress and brutally raped in ful view of all the townspeople. Once each soldier had had a turn, she was flogged and then hung from a tree on the road out of town."

Her bottom lip trembled at hearing the recollection of what had been done in Ellestown to one of her fellow confessors. D'Haran quads were specifically designed for that sort of humiliation. It was a revenge ploy that Darken Rahl enjoyed inflicting upon confessors that were captured. He understood that their powers diminished after they was used, rendering them weak and defenseless, which was one of the reasons why all confessors were always accompanied by a wizard. But true wizards were rare nowadays, and those that did have the gift, seemed more interested in coin than public service.

"I am sorry," he said, looking at her with a remorseful expression. "If I had been younger, and stronger, I would have tried to stop them. D'Hara and the Midlands may be centuries old enemies, but that sort of savagery is uncalled for."

Kahlan inclined her head. "Your sympathy is appreciated."

Miles bowed slightly, and turned back to stirring the stew. "It is almost ready," he asserted. "Please, take a seat." He gestured to the small table with a two rickety chairs.

Sighing, she pulled her cloak back and turned to find a place to hang it when she stopped, her eyes going wide as she took in the bed and the unconscious man lying in it.

"Oh, sorry… just some poor fool I found out in a ditch last night," Mile said. "Don't worry. He's harmless… probably as old as I am."

Kahlan swallowed past a lump in her throat and approached the bed, letting her rain soaked cloak dropped to the floor with a splatter of wet cloth. She sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as she seated herself. Leaning over, she picked up the warm washcloth on the man's brow and gently ran her fingertips along the side of his face. Her lips trembled as she took stock of the bruises marring his jovial features.

"Oh… Zedd, what has happened to you?"


	3. Chapter 3

It was Zedd. Of that there was no doubt. She'd recognize that weathered visage any day, no matter how many bruises marred his features. Kahlan leaned forward, squinting her eyes, concern creasing her brow.

"Dear spirits," she mumbled under her breath, surveying the damage on the old wizard's face. Turning, she spotted a wet washcloth hanging on the edge of the nightstand. Kahlan took the washcloth, and gently padded it against the more angry looking bruises, grimacing slightly as Zedd made a hissing noise in his unconscious state. Arching her neck, she looked over her shoulder at Miles. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know, Confessor," replied the old hermit. "I found him lying in a ditch… as he is."

"Where was this?"

"Not far from here," Miles said, approaching her, and handing over a clean washcloth and a bowl filled with boiled water.

Kahlan sighed, and ran her fingers through her long hair before accepting the clean cloth with a small grateful smile. "Thank you for taking care of him," she said, turning to place the newly damp washcloth along Zedd's forehead.

"You know him?" Miles inquired, shuffling back to the hearth to dish out a bowl of vegetable stew for her.

She gave a hesitant nod of her head. "Yes, he is one of my traveling companions." Even though the old man had been kind so far, and his distaste for the barbarity of Darken Rahl seemed sincere, he was still D'Haran. So, Kahlan was still cautious in dealing with Miles. She knew it was prejudice to judge him solely on the fact that he was D'Haran, but it was hard to unlearn some of the biases she'd been ingrained with as a child.

The mattress moved, and Zedd groaned softly, pulling her attention back to him. His eyes fluttered open, but closed soon after. His brow furrowed and his bushy eyebrows knitted together as he struggled to regain consciousness. Kahlan gently stroked the side of his face, trying to coax him to alertness. She needed him awake. She'd felt all alone without her companions, but especially without Richard, her secret husband.

And Zedd was family too, as much as Richard.

Kahlan had learned the truth early in their quest. One of the wizard's old flames had shown up proclaiming her son was his. Zedd had vehemently denied it, and had had to impart the secret of Richard's lineage to prove himself to the confessor. He'd then sworn her to secrecy. However, recently, events had forced the old wizard to reveal the truth to Richard.

Though Zedd knew nothing of their secret marriage, Kahlan had still come to see the old wizard as a grandfather as well. He was part of her family, even if she hadn't married Richard in a clandestine wedding two months ago when they had been in the Angrass valley.

"Zedd?" she called out, ignoring Miles as he distributed the stew behind her. "Can you hear me? It's Kahlan."

"Kahlan?" croaked the old wizard, blinking his eyes and squinting up at her.

"Yes," she bobbed her head, holding back tears of joy to see his hazel eyes looking up at her. "It's me."

"Ah, dear one, why are you crying?" he asked, struggling to raise his hand and caress her cheek, wiping a stray tear that had managed to escape.

Kahlan let out a breath and clutched his hand to her chest. "You've been injured Zedd," she said. "And Richard… he's gone."

"Richard…," his voice trailed off as he closed his eyes, his lips parting as he inhaled slowly. His face scrunched up in thought. "I remember… we… we were ambushed by women in red."

"What?" Kahlan leaned forward, bringing a hand up to hold the side of Zedd's face, attempting to keep him alert enough to fill her in on what he was working at telling her. "What happened?"

His eyes grew wide. "Mord'Sith!" he shouted, nearly bolting up, one hand jerking up as if in a protective stance. Kahlan clamped down on her rising anxiety to focus on calming Zedd. Putting her arms across him, she gently eased him back down to a lying position on the mattress.

"You're safe now, Zedd," she said. "There are no Mord'Sith here."

"Are you sure?" the old wizard's eyes darted around franticly, uncertainty and fear etched onto his features. "Oh spirits… Kahlan… they… they've taken Richard!" He blinked, gasping in pants for air. "I… I haven't seen him in days."

Kahlan's face paled. Dear spirits, NO! Her heart hammered in her chest at the thought of Richard once again in the clutches of the Mord'Sith. He'd barely survived his captivity under Denna. She'd never asked him, but she suspected that the Mord'Sith mistress had nearly broke him.

It had become something he rarely talked about. Though once, not too long ago, as they rested under the gently swaying branches of a tree, savoring the sweet post-coital bliss of their mutual love, Richard had confessed that his love for her had saved him from becoming completely destroyed by the torture. He held her tight, running his fingers along her bare arm as he turned onto his side and stared into her eyes, telling her how he'd built a place in his mind where it was just him and her, alone, and that that fantasy had allowed him to retain his sanity.

Now, if Zedd's ramblings were to be believed, her beloved Richard was once again in the hands of the Mord'Sith.

"Zedd," she grabbed at him, forcibly. "Where did they take him!? Where?"

He groaned, and coughed, turning his head into the pillow as he mumbled incoherently. His eyes fluttered closed and he lapsed into unconsciousness, leaving Kahlan without an answer. She grounded her teeth, and nearly growled in frustration. Sitting up, Kahlan ran her fingers through her hair, and closed her eyes as she inhaled a deep breath of air.

"Confessor?" Miles's voice startled her out of her daze.

Blinking, Kahlan looked up at the man. He was standing near the hearth, holding up a bowl of vegetable. She took a long slow breath, letting the rich enticing aroma lull her frustrations away. Opening her eyes, she turned back to Zedd, checking on him one last time before standing up and joining Miles at the small table.

He smiled and placed the bowl down on the wooden surface, taking a seat himself and diving into the hearty stew. Kahlan sighed, and rubbed her forehead. She really needed to let go of all this tension that was building up in her shoulders. Zedd's ramblings were just that, ramblings. She would not know for sure what was real until he was conscious and coherent.

Flicking her eyes across to Miles, she studied him, cataloguing all his mannerisms as he ate his stew. With her mind focused on another task other than on what could potentially be happening to her beloved, Kahlan lifted a spoon and dipped it into the bowl, stirring the contents for a moment, before raising a spoonful to her mouth and tasting it. She smiled. It was good, as good as the aroma had advertised.

"This is good," she offered Miles with a small smile.

"Thank you, Confessor," he inclined his head in appreciation. "It's nothing fancy, not like the grand meals you are probably used to."

Kahlan regarded him with a scrutinizing stare before turning her attention back to the vegetable stew, scooping up a chopped carrot and chewing on it as she thought. She was still uneasy about letting her guard down around the man. It wasn't just the fact that he was a D'Haran. There was something else about Miles that caught her attention. There was a way with which he moved that was both familiar and foreign. His grey eyes had a spark to them that was more telling than anything he had willingly told her.

Taking a moment to savor the rich blend of flavors in the vegetable stew, Kahlan steeled herself for asking some rather blunt questions. She swallowed slowly, placing her spoon down and folding her hands together in front of her on the table in a non-threatening fashion. Kahlan was not afraid. Anxious maybe, but not afraid. She knew that she was not defenseless—far from it, and should Miles prove to be an enemy, she could easily confess him in a matter of seconds.

Miles narrowed his eyes, seeming to sense the change in mood.

"Are you a wizard?" Kahlan blurted out, her voice firm and strong, as befitting a confessor.

Miles coughed, his eyes going wide. Bringing his hand up to shield his mouth, he took a moment to regain control of himself before running a shaky hand through his long grey hair.

"What makes you ask that?" he questioned, the slight hitch in his voice already giving him away.

Kahlan leaned back, observing. "There is a glint in your eyes that I recognized," she explained. "If you've spent as much time around the gifted as I have, you learn to notice such things. So… are you a wizard?"

Miles shoulders slumped and he hung his head. "Yes… and no."

She furrowed her brow. "Explain?"

Looking up, the old man sighed, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "It is difficult to understand for those not initiated."

"I've lived with wizards my whole life," Kahlan asserted. "Try me."

"Very well," Miles relented with a shrug. "Long ago, when I was still young, I was apprenticed to a wizard. He had seen the spark of the gift in me long before I manifested any signs. He took me in, and trained me… well, tried to train me. You see... he was not really a very good wizard himself. And being in D'Hara was never really a good place for wizards of a certain constitution. He abhorred the iron-fitted rule of those of the Rahl bloodline, a mindset he managed to pass on to me.

"Anyways, I had just started learning how to control some minor spells, when the D'Haran Inquisition began."

"Excuse me?" Kahlan interrupted, her brow furrowing, confused. She'd studied history, quite extensively, while being tutored in the Wizard's Keep. Never had she heard of the D'Haran Inquisition.

"Oh, yes, you are from the Midlands, so you would not have heard of this part of our dark history," Miles said, shifting in his seat. He leaned over and picked up a glass bottle. He pulled the stopper out and poured himself a glass of wine. He held the bottle up, "Would you like some? It's a very good vintage."

"No, I'm fine with just water," Kahlan replied. "Please, continue… what was this D'Haran Inquisition?"

Pausing to take a sip of his wine, Miles leaned back into his chair, his eyes far away, lost in memory. "It was a dark time for the gifted. Balric Rahl was gravely ill, on his deathbed. His son, Panis Rahl, had already begun the preparations for assuming the role of Lord Rahl. But Balric was still the Lord Rahl. And he was fearful of wizards. He didn't trust them.

"What you need to understand is that back then D'Hara had been a more… free society than it is now. Ideas and knowledge was shared openly, and people were happy and good to one another. But Balric grew bitter and angry in his old age, and as his illness ravaged his body, he sought to destroy anyone else's happiness."

"Ah," Kahlan said, understanding the mentality behind such a despot.  _If I can't be happy, then no one else can_. It was a sad way of viewing the world, but not all that surprising coming from a tyrannical ruler.

"Certain ideas, or views that were considered counter to the beliefs of the Lord Rahl and his ruling council meant that you were a traitor," Miles continued. "My master, Vimner Holmar was arrested and brought before the Inquisition. In D'Hara, the wizards aren't ruled by the Wizard's Conclave, like the Midlands. They don't answer to the First Wizard, and don't recognize the authority of the Orders.

"Instead, D'Haran gifted are supervised by the Grand Directorate. And at the time of Balric Rahl's rule the Directorate was under the control of Kor Karakalla, a vile and dark wizard. He also happened to be a staunch supporter of all of Lord Balric's new policies regarding the espousing of opinions that differed for those of the Lord Rahl.

"As a result, my master, the man who trained me, was executed for his beliefs in peace and freedom. Vimner Holmar was against war and aggression, and the use of magic to inflict harm on others, beliefs he instilled in me. When the proclamations came out of the People's Palace, listing all the new laws and edicts, none of us had anything to do other than comply or risk death.

"Be it fortune, luck, disinterest, or just plain incompetence, the Directorate was unaware that Vimner Holmar had taken me on as his apprentice. Hence why my answer to your original question of whether or not I am a wizard was as it was. Yes, I have the gifts and have been trained, but 'no' because my training was left incomplete. I know but a few spells and incantations. But not enough to be a threat to anyone."

Kahlan pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, using her ingrained powers of detecting deceit. She sensed no such thing from Miles. He was telling the truth. "I believe you," she said.

"I knew you would," he said with a rueful smile. "I may not never completed my training, but I am well-read and know some of confessors, even if I have not met many first hand. In fact, you are the first confessor whom I've had as long a conversation with as we are currently having."

Kahlan gave him a small smile. "And you are the first D'Haran with whom I've ever had such an agreeable and amicable conversation."

Miles laughed, shaking his head. "That cannot be true, surely you have met other D'Harans such as me, who are not so blinded by Darken Rahl's propaganda."

"I'm afraid not," Kahlan said. "Though to be fair, I've never really been to D'Hara. The only D'Harans I have ever met have been soldiers or servants of Darken Rahl."

"Then I am truly sorry," Miles inclined his head. "Please, do not judge all D'Haran by such few."

"I shall try to keep an open mind on the subject," Kahlan replied with a grin, finding Miles to be pleasant company. "But first… I must know more about what has happened to Zedd. He mentioned Mord'Sith… are there any Mord'Sith around here?"

Miles looked uneasy, shifting in his chair. He picked up his goblet and took a long draft of wine. Gulping it down, he placed the goblet back on the table and looked back up at her.

"There is a Mord'Sith temple some leagues to the north," he said. "I had not thought to mention it as the Sisters of the Agiel who dwell there rarely venture this far south."

"There is a war going on, Miles," Kahlan reminded him with a look. "What was once rare may no longer be so."

Miles gave a reluctant nod of agreement. "True."

Kahlan sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, stretching. Her muscles let go of some the tension that she'd been holding. Now that she was less concern about Miles being a threat, her mind went back to Richard and the ramblings Zedd had muttered. She narrowed her eyes and glanced down at the hearth, staring into the flickering flames.

If Richard had truly been captured by the Mord'Sith, then she was going to need help to save him.


	4. Chapter 4

Miles left to gather mushrooms after the rain had ceased. He advised her to stay put, in case Zedd woke up. Kahlan had yet to fully inform Miles on whom Zedd really was. She recognized that Miles had been through some trying experiences with the Grand Directorate, but she was unsure how he'd feel about having the First Wizard in his home, even if, as a D'Haran, Miles did not accredit the Wizard Orders of the Midlands with authority over him and other such gifted. However, from the sounds of it, Kahlan believed Miles didn't appreciate any authority of all. Still, he had treated her with nothing but kindness and compassion.

Tending Zedd, Kahlan thought about the implications of all that she had learned in such a short time. She was growing more certain with the idea that Richard had been taken by a group of Mord'Sith. It was the only thing that fit with what she knew.

When Miles returned, he had a basket full of mushrooms and blackberries. He offered some to her, which she gladly accepted with a small smile of thanks. Nibbling on the plump berries, Kahlan pondered the entire situation.

It was nothing new to her.

In the past, before she had taken up the quest to find the Seeker and protect him, Kahlan had done little more than travel around the Midlands with a senior confessor—and wizard protector—to dispense the justice of the Midlands Alliance Council. Her life had never been about adventure. She'd done her duty, sought out the truth and confessed those who stood in the way, but only if absolutely required. Kahlan hated using her confessor powers, yet it had been necessary many times… more than she'd like.

Back then, her life was predictable, secure, and safe. Now, however, her life was the complete opposite, yet it seemed fuller, with richer depth and experience. She'd done things which she had never imagined doing, such as tracking and hunting, sleeping under the stars, fighting, flirting, teasing, falling in love… making love… all were experiences she had learned to accept never having, yet here she was, having them.

And she had Richard to thank for almost all that, but especially the falling in love part. Richard was unlike any man she had ever encountered. He dared to love a confessor, a feat no man in the Midlands would even consider attempting. A confessor was to be feared, not loved. Yet Richard dared to believe the impossible and had made it possible… in a manner of speaking. Kahlan still feared losing control in the heat of the moment and accidently confessing him, even if he believed otherwise.

"All I need is Clara!" Zedd shouted, bolting upright without warning, startling Kahlan from her ruminations. His hazel eyes darted around, fraught and panicky, bewildered by the sights.

"Shh, Zedd, it's okay… it's okay," Kahlan soothed, gently pushing the wizard back down to the bed, all the while keeping her own frantic thoughts submerged until her confessor's will.

He complied, after a brief hesitation, his wide eyes blinking rapidly. "Kahlan, my dear, is that you?" he asked, his voice hoarse, strained from non-use.

"Yes," she inclined her head, turning to Miles to ask for a glass of water.

The old hermit quickly grabbed a goblet and poured some water from a pitcher. He handed it to her, and Kahlan eased her hand under Zedd's head to help him lean forward to sip the refreshing liquid. He sighed and laid back into the pillow. Kahlan put the goblet on the nightstand and glanced back at him.

"Zedd?" she paused, smirking slightly. "Who is Clara?"

"Oh," he blinked several times before a fond smile formed on his face. "My chicken. She's a very loyal chicken."

"And… what did you need her for, exactly?"

Zedd frowned. "Never mind you… wizard's business."

Kahlan looked down at him with a skeptical expression, yet she did not question him further, deciding some things were better left unsaid. From her recollection, upon her first meeting with the aged wizard, she did recall some poor unfortunate chicken that thankfully covered his 'wizard's business' from her view.

Shaking his head, Zedd requested another sip of water. She handed him the goblet and watched him gulp it down, smacking his lips with relish. "Thanks, dear one," he returned the empty goblet. Screwing up his face, Zedd looked around the small interior of the cabin. "Where are we?"

"We're in the mountains near Hebber," Kahlan replied. "This is the home of Miles." She indicated the elderly hermit standing beside her. "He found you out in the rain, unconscious and babbling."

Zedd licked his lips and swallowed. "Is that so?"

Miles nodded. "With what little skill I have, I managed to stop the bleeding from your forehead wound."

Zedd cautiously raised a hand to touch the swollen gash on his brow. He grimaced and pulled his hand away. He glanced over at Miles. "My thanks," he bobbed his head. "It is nice to see that you can still rely on some kindness from strangers in these troubled times."

"If only we weren't in troubled times, my friend," Miles replied, leaning over to pat Zedd on the shoulder. "I think I have some stew left over."

"Stew!" Zedd perked up and Kahlan tried to suppress a smirk. The wizard did love his food.

Miles chuckled and shuffled off to find a clean bowl. Kahlan turned back to Zedd, and reached out to smooth his unkempt hair. It was more tangled and stringy than it normally was. Sighing, she bit her lower lip and tried not to let the worry bubble up from inside. But it wouldn't stay down. Despite all the suppressing techniques she was employing, the anxiety over their situation wouldn't stay calm.

The worry must have leaked out onto her face, because Zedd was suddenly reaching out to squeeze her arm. "What is it, Kahlan?"

"Richard… he's missing," she said, nearly choking on her words.

Zedd knitted his eyebrows together, his eyes glazing over as he concentrated. "I remember," he murmured, barely a whisper. "We were on the road to Beaumont, when we were suddenly set upon by a band of Mord'Sith. Richard…," he frowned. "I can't recall what exactly happened, it's hazy, but I _do_ know he was taken. The Mord'Sith were fierce and very determined." He swallowed heavily. "I remember a searing pain behind my eyes as one of them struck me with an agiel, and then I must have passed out, because the next thing I can recall is waking up just now."

Kahlan stared at Zedd, unable to fathom what it must have been like to be set upon like they had. Their small party had been attacked by Mord'Sith before, but from the way he was talking, it sounded like it was a large group, much larger than a D'Haran quad.

"It's the Mord'Sith temple," Miles interjected, stepping over with a warm bowl of stew.

"Huh?"

"The reason their for there numbers," he explained, handing the bowl to a grateful Zedd.

The wizard stirred the contents of the stew with his spoon for a moment, deep in thought. "The leader had raven black hair, and emerald eyes," he spoke out loud. Shaking his head, as if to ward off the horrifying memories of his ordeal, Zedd dipped his spoon into the stew and raised it to his mouth, tasting. He hummed in approval, and then swallowed a mouthful.

"That would be Maven," Miles supplied, giving Kahlan an uneasy look. "She's as fierce and cruel as they come."

Zedd grunted. "Aren't they all?"

"True enough," Miles agreed. "But Maven… she's one nasty lass, with a mean temper to boot." He pulled a chair over and joined Kahlan by Zedd's side. "Word has it she was passed over for Head Mistress."

Zedd's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Dear Spirits… she's a dangerous one then."

"And she has Richard now," Kahlan interrupted, unable to keep the fright from her voice. She lowered her head, wringing her hands in her lap. "Last time Richard was able to fight Denna, but can he do so with Maven?"

Zedd furrowed his brow. "Denna was one of Rahl's favorites, yes, but she's proved to be a disappointment to him. And this Maven sounds like harder stuff…" his trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

Kahlan squeezed her eyes shut, holding her tears at bay. She took slow and even breaths, utilizing her training to keep her emotions in check. "Richard is strong," she asserted, surprised at how firm her voice was. "He will resist."

She flicked her gaze up to lock eyes with Zedd. Whatever control she thought she'd had over her emotions must not have been working, because Zedd was suddenly pulling her into a gentle hug, mindful of his own injuries. Kahlan heaved in a deep breath; taking what comfort she could from her friend. His hands rubbed her back reassuringly, before he eased away, brushing his hand through her long hair and wiping at some tray tears on her cheek.

"It is alright to be afraid, dear one," Zedd said. "To deny it would be dishonest."

Kahlan chewed on her lower lip and blinked away the tears, nodding her head, but not entirely convinced. "I… I just I had something of his," she said. "Then maybe I wouldn't feel so lost."

Beside her, Miles cleared his throat. Turning her head, Kahlan brought a hand up to rub away some of the remaining tears as she watched the old man reach inside his robes, producing a tooth pendant necklace from his inside pockets. "Does this belong to Richard?" he inquired, holding the pendant up. "I found it lying near Zedd."

Kahlan let out a soft cry as she bobbed her head, holding out her hands as Miles placed the tooth pendant in her palms. The leather string was broken, leading her to infer it had snapped from around his neck during a fierce struggle. She pursed her lips, trying to still their quivering. Her eyes watered, blurring her visions. Wrapping her fingers around the pendant, Kahlan jumped up from her chair and bolted out of the cabin, ignoring the worried calls of the two elderly men.

She stumbled down the slope, tripping slightly on the knotted roots of a tree. Tears streamed down her face as she dashed away, seeking solitude for her grief in the mist cover forest. This was the proof of his abduction. Kahlan remembered the one time when Richard had lost the pendant, and how distraught he'd been over its disappearance. It had been a gift from George Cypher, his father, and was something he treasured.

Clutching it to her heart, Kahlan sagged against the lichen-covered bark of a large tree. She slid down to the mossy forest floor, sobbing silently as she wallowed in terrible despair and anguish. Her heart felt like it was being torn apart as thoughts of all the horrors her beloved would be facing at the hands of the relenting Mord'Sith filtered through her mind.

"Oh, Richard," she whimpered, ducking her head down so her long hair shielded her face from the outside world.

They were secretly husband and wife, and Kahlan couldn't bear to be parted from him. She had no idea when the ambush had occurred, or how long Richard had been in the clutches of Mistress Maven. All she knew was that he was not with her, where he belonged. She wished they had never came to the Hebber Dale. Sure, they had a quest, and the dale had promised to be a source of ample recruitment for the resistance. But those rumors had proven false. Though loyal to the Midlands, Hebber had offered no help, the townsfolk too fearful of D'Haran retribution.

Kahlan closed her eyes, letting the tears leak out of the cracks and trail down her face. She didn't care anymore. The Seeker was captured, and she was alone. Yes, Zedd was with her, but he was injured and bedridden for the foreseeable future. She needed help now, not later. Richard was strong, yes, but even he could only survive so long at the diabolical hands of the Mord'Sith. Eventually, even the Seeker would break.

Heaving in a shaky breath, Kahlan worked at pulling herself together. She was in pieces, torn asunder when parted from her beloved, but she was still strong… still powerful. She was a confessor. No. Not just a confessor. She was the Mother Confessor.

Holding out her hand, Kahlan unclenched her fingers, and stared at the tooth pendant in her palm. She sniffled as her tears dried. She was better than this, crying alone in the woods, afraid and small. Richard had taught her to believe, and Kahlan was going to do that. She was going to let herself have faith in hope that all was not lost, that there was a solution to the problem.

_Think of the solution, not the problem._

Wiping at her eyes, she furrowed her brow in thought, her eyes never leaving the pendant in her hands. She had to do something. She couldn't just sit there and allow Richard to be subjected to Spirits' knows what kind of torture. At this moment, she couldn't think of him as her lover or husband, but as the Seeker of Truth. He had a destiny to fulfill and she had to ensure he was alive to do so.

Slowly curling her fingers around the necklace, Kahlan pursed her lips and set her brow in a determined expression. She knew exactly what she had to do. It would be difficult and very risky, but it had to be done. No one was more worth her life than Richard. He was everything, and without him hope would be lost. Clenching her jaw, Kahlan stood up, one hand resting against the tree trunk for support. She looked up at the greying sky, sensing another wave of rain on the way.

She'd need to wait until the morning. Then, with a little help from her friends back in the cabin, she'd be able to set her plan into motion.

Kahlan was going to rescue Richard.


End file.
